by Paul Forsythe
JohnstonCurator of Maritime History
National Museum of American History

I stopped
talking after about three minutes. Dead silence and utter stillness greeted
my proposal to a sizeable gathering of retired U.S. Navy admirals, former
submarine captains, experts in naval intelligence, nuclear propulsion
engineers, and current submariners of various ranks. Eventually, peoples'
eyes began to slide around the table, gauging each others' reactions to
what I had said. Maybe they thought I was joking or deliberately provoking,
but I wasn't.

Nobody
said a word, so I started in again, detailing my special interest in the
subject and describing its lowly 19th century origins. Finally, one of
the Pentagon representatives at the other end of the table raised his
hand rather tentatively, cleared his throat and voiced the collective
expert opinion I had already anticipated, "Excuse me sir, but all that's
classified." Others around the table immediately and unanimously confirmed
his appraisal of the situation.

I suspected
I would have only one chance to sell my idea, and the time was now. We
were in the early planning phase of a proposed exhibit on nuclear submarines
at the Smithsonian Institution's National Museum of American Historya
joint venture between ourselves, the Navy Submarine League and the Navyand
at this meeting, we were discussing various possibilities. At that point
in time, all ideas were worthy of consideration, however preposterous
they might appear on the surface.

We had
been told that the Navy might be willing to declassify certain aspects
of submarine technology and operations just for our exhibition. Details
were vague, but the offer was straightforward and sincere. However, they'd
had other things in mind when making that offer, and I had unexpectedly
taken aim at one of the most secret aspects of modern nuclear submarines.
It had never before been seen by the public and was even hidden at restricted-access
submarine bases worldwide, and now I was proposing that we share it with
the five million visitors that come to our museum each year. Hence the
quiet.

Hoping
the chap at the other end of the table who'd spoken knew the most about
my subject, I directed my next question to him. "Is there any way we could
look into this a bit further before giving up?" He smiled, gracefully
acknowledging he'd been hooked. I got his name, and we went on to other
topics. I was very pleased, as I had a fallback plan and an alternative
to that, and I hadn't needed to bring up either one.